


Tutoring Michael Clifford

by damnitashtonirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M, Tutoring, badboy!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnitashtonirwin/pseuds/damnitashtonirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Michael, come on,” you groaned, “you need to learn this, otherwise it’s my ass on the line.”</p>
<p>“But we’ve been at it for two hours,” he practically whined, “My brain hurts.”</p>
<p>“Stop your bitching, Clifford, you need to get this.”</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>The one where you have to tutor badboy!Michael and things don't go as you expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tutoring Michael Clifford

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on Tumblr, based off the plot of tutoring badboy!Michael because his grades are slipping.

Heaving a sigh, you trudged up the path to the front door of the Clifford residence. Due to your excellent grades, you had been appointed the task of tutoring some of the students who were struggling with the coursework, and somehow (you were pretty convinced it was due to whatever cosmic force out there hating you), you had ended up with the task of tutoring Michael Clifford.

Michael Clifford was the resident bad boy. It was no secret that he absolutely hated anything and everything remotely associated with school; he barely ever showed up and even if he did, he never did his homework. On the days he did show up, he would usually just sit in the back of the class and stare out of the window, making it obvious to everyone that he would rather be anywhere else.

Never the less, he and his grades were now your responsibility, seeing as you were his tutor and your teacher was looking to you to help Michael improve his grades. So here you were, in front of the Cliffords’ front door, mentally preparing yourself for what would possibly be the hardest tutoring session you would ever have.

You raised your hand and knocked firmly on the door in front of you. A few moments later, sluggish footsteps were heard coming from inside the house, and the door swung open, revealing Michael Clifford in all his glory. Dressed in his trademark black skinny jeans and a band-tee with the sleeves cut off, his bright red hair stood out against the mass of black in his clothing.

“Hey there, Princess,” he smirked, not trying the slightest to hide the fact that he was eyeing you up and down.

“Clifford,” you nodded, “Should we get this over with?”

Shrugging in reply, he simply stepped aside and gestured for you to step inside.

“My parents aren’t home yet, so we can set up in the living room if you’d like,” he said, surprising you with the lack of the usual hostility in his voice.

“S-sure,” you stuttered out, _damn it, why did you have to stutter_?

Of course, he noticed you stutter, and his trademark smirk spread on his face as he led you into the living room. You both got settled and began going over the coursework.

Two hours later, Michael made no effort to hide the fact that he was just about done. You had been going over the assigned part of Shakespeare’s Hamlet for this week, and Michael could not care less about, quote, ‘some dead English poetry-guy’, as he so eloquently had put it. Letting out a frustrated groan, he closed his book and set it down.

“Michael, come on,” you groaned, “you need to learn this, otherwise it’s my ass on the line.”

“But we’ve been at it for two hours,” he practically whined, “My brain hurts.”

“Stop your bitching, Clifford, you need to get this.”

“Wow, the nerd knows how to swear,” he snickered, “it’s actually really hot.”

“Michael, stop fucking around, okay?” you sighed, not in the mood for his little games.

“Come on, Princess,” he pressed on with that goddamn smirk plastered on his face, “I get it, I actually do. Now, how about I teach you something instead?”

“Like – like what?” you managed to ask, not really sure what he meant even though you did have a slight idea.

“Well, you might be a nerd,” he said, ever so slowly scooting closer to you, “But you’re a damn hot nerd. Maybe even hotter than most of the girls in our school.”

“Uh, thanks?” you mumbled, not too sure of how much of a compliment it was.

“You see, the thing is,” he said, closing the distance between the two of you on the couch, “I know you’re here to make me understand whatever that dead poetry-guy wrote, but honestly, it’s kind of hard to focus on that when you’re sitting there, looking like that.”

“S-so what did you think you could teach me?” you stuttered out.

 “Something they don’t teach you in school,” he murmured, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips before he leaned in slightly.

At that moment your mind went completely blank because _holy shit, Michael Clifford was about to kiss you_ and this was definitely in no way what you had expected coming over to the Clifford-house today.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispered, and _oh God you could feel his warm breath against your lips_.

It smelled nice and minty, and you gulped slightly before opening your mouth to reply.

“I want to,” you whispered, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

Before you knew it, his lips pressed against yours, warm, soft and plump as they were. You froze for a second, slightly overwhelmed by the feeling of his lips against yours before instinct kicked in and you kissed him back. As soon as he felt the pressure from your lips against his, a soft moan rose from his throat, and you felt one of his arms snake around your waist, pressing you closer to him while his other hand softly cupped your cheek.

Way too soon for your liking though, you both had to break apart for air, Michael resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re right,” you mumbled slightly out of breath, “That’s something they don’t teach in school.”

“Don’t worry Princess,” he chuckled at your comment, “You’re a natural.”

After he pressed a soft peck to your lips, you pulled away slightly and cleared your throat.

“Um, maybe we should get back to Shakespeare,” you said, suddenly very self-conscious under Michael’s gaze.

“Okay, but under one condition,” he said, a genuine smile now spreading on his face, “For every answer I get right, I get a kiss.”

Giggling slightly at the sight of the bad boy practically turning into a big kitten in front of your eyes, you decided to oblige him.

“I can live with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> To read more of my requested works (or request something yourself), go to my Tumblr [[X]](http://www.damnitashtonirwin.tumblr.com)  
> Feel free to leave feedback through comments and/or kudos, thank you for reading :)


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